


Identity

by Dolimir



Series: Identity [1]
Category: Smallville, Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolimir/pseuds/Dolimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter with a shapeshifter changes Lex's world forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Identity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fruitbat00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitbat00/gifts).



“You don’t look like an FBI agent.”

“You wouldn’t believe how often I get told that.” The blond agent looked vaguely annoyed, but still managed to grace him with a smile, insincere as it might be. 

“Do I know you?”

“Nope.”

“You seem so sure.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I’d met you before, Mr. Luthor. You don’t strike me as a person one easily forgets.”

Lex inclined his head gracefully. 

“But back to the matter at hand, if you don’t mind.” The agent looked at the small notebook in his hand. “The manager informs me that the suspect spoke to you during the robbery.”

“That’s correct.”

“Do you remember what he said?”

Lex nodded, taking a moment to line his shirt sleeve up with the cuff of his suit jacket before he look up. “Yes. He said he was going to enjoy being me.”

Instead of asking about what items the robber had taken or warning him about protecting himself against possible identity theft, the agent frowned and leaned forward slightly in his chair, his green eyes blazing with unexpected intensity. “Did he touch you?”

Lex blinked in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Did it touch you at any time during the robbery?”

“It?” Lex asked in confusion. 

“My apologies, I meant him.”

“And you want to know if he touched me?”

“Yes, sir.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why is that relevant?”

“Please, sir, just answer the question.”

Frowning, Lex took a moment to study the agent in front of him. The minimum age requirement for being an agent was twenty-three and all applicants had to have a four year degree before they could go through the five month academy training. Lex knew these trivial facts because he had toyed with idea of going into the academy after college, before his father had devised a scheme to get him expelled for cheating. And while the blond haired man did have a military bearing, Lex would give all his liquid assets to charity and take up farming if the ‘agent’ in front of him was actually a twenty-three college graduate. 

“Yes. He grabbed my chin.”

“Damn,” the agent whispered. 

“What was that?”

“Mr. Luthor, I strongly urge you to surround yourself with people who can attest to your whereabouts for every second of the next several days.”

“What? Why?”

“Just…trust me on this. Okay? You’ll save yourself a lot of heartache if you follow my advice.”

*-*-*-*-*

Leaning back in his desk chair, Lex steepled his fingers and thought back over the last several hours, trying to come to grips with the weirdness of his day.

His decision to go to Morenstien’s had been a spur of the moment decision. He had just gotten off the phone with Clark, who had been angsting over his feelings for Lana. 

Again. 

Lex wondered if his obsession with the teenager was starting to border on creepy yet; but despite Clark’s wholesome appearance, Lex knew there was more to the boy than met the eye. He had come to the conclusion several months before that Clark was actually a meteor mutant and that his family was hiding that fact in order to keep Clark safe from the prying eyes of the government. 

He just wished Clark trusted him enough to share his secret with him. Lex had been doing his best to prove to Clark and the Kents that he was trustworthy, and while Mr. Kent was standing strong in his ‘all Luthors are evil’ stance, Mrs. Kent was starting to soften toward him a bit. 

Clark had been looking to Lex for advice on how to woo the dark-haired local beauty, and Lex found that he genuinely wanted to help the boy out. And while Clark would never accept such an expensive gift on his own behalf, he might do it on Lana’s. Besides, Clark didn’t have to know the gift was expensive. It would be enough to know that Lana knew. 

Morenstien’s was a jeweler so exclusive that you had to have a minimum of ten zeros in your account to even get an invitation to his office, which ironically was housed in a plain brick building in the midst of Metropolis’ boutique district. 

Lex had no sooner been escorted into the showroom, when he’d been accosted by a brown eyed, brown haired man, who had thrust a gun in his face and ordered him to get on the floor. 

The gunman had been fairly chatty as he emptied the cases of their near priceless jewels, going on and on about how he never knew that there was a jeweler hiding in the building, even though he walked past it every day and how Morenstien really shouldn’t hide his wares.

Lex had thought it strange that the man had made no attempt to hide his identity. It was almost as if he wanted to be recognized, which didn’t make any sense. 

Trouble came when the gunman ordered Lex to empty his pockets, which he did without protest, knowing full well that the gunman would never be able to use his credit cards. Everything in his wallet could be replaced before the end of the day. 

Perhaps the gunman had seen something in his eyes, because he had no sooner accepted the wallet when he grabbed Lex’s chin. He closed his eyes, his face taken on a look akin to ecstasy. When he opened them again, he smiled smugly. “I’m going to enjoy being you.”

Living in Smallville had desensitized him to a lot of strange things, but there was something about the man’s eyes that bothered him. 

As soon as he got home, Lex started doing a little research online and discovered that three different men in the last three weeks had been accused of crimes they couldn’t have possibly committed. Even though there was video footage of them committing robberies, each ‘suspect’ had airtight alibis corroborated by more than one witness. He strongly suspected that some poor accountant was going to get his life turned upside down within the next day or two and not have a clue as to why the police were beating down his door. 

Lex closed his eyes and shook his head. It appeared there was another meteor mutant on the loose. And it appeared that once again, Lex was on its radar. 

But how did the FBI agent know about meteor mutants?

There was something the agent that wasn’t quite kosher. And while he knew he couldn’t do anything at the moment about the meteor mutant, he knew he could check into the agent. Grinning he pushed himself from his chair; having something to focus on made him feel like he had a little control over his life again.

*-*-*-*-*

Dean groaned in response to the sharp knock on his motel door. He glanced over at his clock and groaned again. Who in the hell was bothering him before six in the morning? He knew it wasn’t the motel’s manager as he’d paid for a week up front, in cash, and even remembered to get the receipt this time.

He sleepily wondered if it could be his father, but knew John would have already picked the lock by now.

Grumbling, he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled toward the door. He’d been exploring the labyrinth of sewers under the city in the hopes of finding the shape shifter’s lair and hadn’t gotten home until three in the morning. 

He flung the door open. “What?” he shouted. 

A young bald man raised an eyebrow at him before stepping around him and entering his room. 

Dean searched his sluggish memory. Luthor. Alexander. One of the victims from the jewelry heist yesterday. 

Shit. 

He shut the door and turned toward the man who was inspecting his room and finding it lacking. 

“Budget cuts hitting the Bureau hard, are they?”

 _Coffee_ , Dean thought inanely. _I need coffee._ Out loud, he said, “What can I do for you, Mr. Luthor?”

“You can tell me why you’re impersonating an FBI agent.”

Huffing with humor, Dean moved sluggishly back to his bed and picked his jeans off the floor. He gave them a quick sniff, then shuddered and dropped them back to the carpet. He moved to his duffle bag on the opposite bed and pulled out his last clean pair. 

Damn. He hated doing laundry. 

He slid the jeans on, then grabbed the first shirt in the bag and put it on. He looked up at Luthor, who was studying him, and huffed once again in amusement before he put his socks and shoes on. If he was going to have to make a run for it, he sure as hell didn’t want to do it barefooted. 

“Coffee.”

Luthor started to frown at him, then shook his head in amusement. “There’s a diner on the corner.”

“You’re buying.”

“ _I’m_ buying?” Luthor asked incredulously. 

“You hauled my freight out of bed before six after I spent the night in the sewers, you’re damn right you’re buying.” Dean opened the motel door and waved his hand in front of him, indicating that Luthor should precede him out of the room. 

Luthor looked like he wanted to protest, but remained silent as he walked past Dean.

*-*-*-*-*

Dean could practically feel the caffeine racing along his veins, waking up the various muscles and nerves as it slid by. He took a moment to study his companion. He semi-expected Luthor to be making a fuss about the lack of cleanliness in the diner, but surprisingly he simply studied the menu.

“What can I get for ya’ll?” the bubble gum snapping waitress asked. 

Luthor handed her back the menu. “A short stack, please.”

“And you, sir?”

“The same, but a side of sausage and hash browns as well please.” He gave her a smile guaranteed to melt butter and took note of her interest. 

When she left, Dean looked over at Luthor. “So what theory have you come up with?”

“Theory?”

“As to why I’m impersonating a fed.”

Luthor blinked at him, apparently not expecting Dean to admit that his assumption had been correct. 

“Oh, come on, now. A man shows up on a crime scene and asks you questions about the robbery you’d just been in. But you notice his suit isn’t the right brand and that his shoes probably have more scuffs than they should.”

“That wasn’t it.”

“Oh?”

“There’s no way you’re twenty-three.”

Dean barked out in laughter. “That’s what blew my cover?”

Luthor nodded. 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Maybe I have a baby face.”

“Maybe. And maybe your suit wasn’t the right brand.” Luthor smirked at him. 

“For a crime victim, you were being remarkably observant.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been a victim of a crime.”

“Sorry to hear that, man.”

Luthor shrugged. 

“So what’s your theory?”

The question seemed to surprise Luthor. 

“Come on. Humor me. If you’re going to turn me in, I’d like to hear what you think is going on.”

Frowning, Luthor studied him from several moments. The frown intensified for a second, but then his eyes widened in surprise. “You’re tracking it.”

“It?” Dean asked, throwing Luthor’s crime scene question back at him. 

“You don’t think it’s human.”

Dean toyed with the idea of lying to Luthor, but decided against it. He was caught, fair and square. And if Luthor had wanted, he could’ve sent the police to roust him instead of coming himself. Besides, there was something about Luthor’s demeanor, like he was expecting the lie, like he was somehow trying to prepare himself for some sort of pain the lie might cause him, and that made Dean want to tell him the truth. And while he knew his father wouldn’t be overly happy about sharing the family business, he knew his father occasionally told the truth to civilians when the cause was just, so he’d probably understand. Hopefully. 

“If it’s a shifter, it’s not.”

Luthor’s eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by the truth. “And if it’s a meteor mutant?”

“A meteor mutant?”

Nodding, Luthor leaned forward slightly over the table. Dean found himself copying the gesture. “About a decade ago, Smallville, Kansas was hit by dozens of meteors. The meteor rock itself has the ability to transform human DNA, often giving people extraordinary abilities.”

Without realizing it, he glanced up at Luthor’s bald head. 

“I was in Smallville that day,” Luthor confirmed. 

“And what ability did you gain?”

Luthor looked him squarely in the face. “Besides losing my hair, it boosted my immune system. I haven’t been sick in nearly a decade. Plus I heal faster than normal people.”

“I don’t want to rain on your parade, but that doesn’t seem much like a superpower.”

“It’s not.” Luthor shrugged. “But maybe that’s what will save me in the end.”

“What do you mean?”

Luthor looked down at the table, worrying the corner of his paper placemat between his thumb and forefinger. “The people who get these abilities, almost always go mad.”

“Dude, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Luthor shrugged, but then leaned back against the vinyl seat with a surprised look on his face. “You didn’t know about meteor mutants?”

“I may have been born in Lawrence, but this is the first time I’ve ever heard anything about a meteor storm in Kansas.”

“You thought…think it may be a…what did you call it? A shape shifter?”

Dean nodded. “Every legend, every fairy tale has its roots in something real.”

“And you, what? Hunt them?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Family business.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope.”

The waitress picked that moment to bring them their food, and Dean was grateful for the interruption. He didn’t particularly want to tell the tale of how his family got into the business of hunting monsters. 

He took a big bite of hashbrowns, when a thought occurred to him. “Crap,” he whispered.

“What?” Luthor looked up from his food. 

“You said this thing could be a meteor mutant.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve seen a shape shifter mutant before?”

“Yes. One impersonated me almost six months ago.”

Dean shook his head and sighed before he cut a chunk out of his short stack.

“What?” Luthor asked when he didn’t continue. 

“This may not be my sort of thing at all.” 

“So?”

“If this thing is human, the police can take care of it.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Damn it.”

*-*-*-*-*

The moment they stepped out of the diner, Dean stretched his arms away from his body and let loose with a monster yawn. He turned and grinned at Luthor. “Thanks for breakfast. And hey, remember to surround yourself with credible witnesses for the next few days.”

Luthor frowned at him. “Why can’t I stay with you?”

Dean rolled his eyes as he turned to face Luthor. “I said ‘credible’ witnesses. You name me and people will assume I was your accomplice, or worse, that I somehow talked you into your life of crime.”

“Have a record, do you?”

Yawning again, Dean nodded. “Shockingly, people don’t always understand what it is we do for them.”

“What are you going to be doing?”

“Right now I’m going back to bed for a few hours.”

“And after that?”

“After that, I’m going to try to find this thing’s lair.”

“I can help you with that.”

Dean glanced at Luthor’s suit, then looked down at his shoes. His whole outfit screamed class and sophistication. It was probably imported from Europe and chances were it cost more than Baby was worth. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“I have a lot of resources.”

“Good for you. Look, just leave this to the professional. I’ll let you know when it’s over.” Dean turned and started walking back to the motel. 

“At least tell me your name,” Luthor called out behind him. “I think I’m owed that much, seeing as I bought you breakfast.”

Dropping his chin to his chest in exasperation, Dean turned and looked back at the business man. “Dean.”

“Lex.”

“Go home, Lex. Be safe.” And with that, he headed back to the hotel.

*-*-*-*-*

Dean had never been in a city so riddled with underground mazes, sewers, abandoned work tunnels, humongous electrical conduits, nuclear fallout shelters, tornado shelters, basements, sub-basements, and sub-sub basements. It was like overgrown gophers had been given LSD and set free. He was beginning to worry that the city might eventually collapse in upon itself.

He was pretty sure he had narrowed the possible lair location down to several city blocks. The problem was there appeared to be several layers of sewers in that particular area, which made sense if you were a shape shifter, but was a pain if you were a tired hunter. He’d made a thorough search of three levels and had found some evidence to indicate that something was moving about down below, but just before he came home he had discovered yet another level. 

While he desperately wanted to continue the search, he also knew he wouldn’t be in any shape for a fight if he should stumble upon the shape shifter, so he decided to grab another couple of hours of sleep before he headed back down. 

He could barely keep his eyes open as he slipped the key into the door to his motel room. Leaning his head against the door, he pulled the key out and slipped through the opening. He knew he really should shower to get the dank smell off his skin, but the siren call of the bed was too great to resist.

*-*-*-*-*

At six a.m. on the nose, a sharp rap reverberated around his room.

Dean groaned and buried his head under a pillow. “I’m going to kill him.” 

The rap became even more urgent. 

“Go away!”

The knocking stopped, but Dean knew better. As much as he wanted to go back to sleep, he knew that Luthor…Lex…wouldn’t go away until he had said his piece. Swearing under his breath, he pushed himself off the bed and stumbled to the door. 

With a strong sense of déjà vu, he flung the door open. “What?” he shouted in irritation. 

Luthor didn’t even have the decency to flinch. “I apparently robbed a casino last night,” he said in lieu of a greeting. 

Dean huffed once in amusement, then turned back into the room. “Did you do what I said?”

Lex shut the door behind him. “Yes. The robbery occurred while I was meeting with my board of trustees.”

“Okay, let me find a map,” Dean moved toward the rickety desk in the corner, “and we can see where the casino falls in relation to the other places it’s already hit.” 

“They caught it last night.”

Dean turned and looked at him in shock. “What?”

Lex shrugged. “It went a long way to exonerating me.”

“Oh-kay. Well, that’ll make trying to figure out what it is easier. Let me get changed and I’ll head down to the police station to conduct some tests.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Of course it’s necessary. We need to determine whether it’s human or…oh crap, it escaped, didn’t it?”

“Last night.”

“Do we know if it shed its skin or not?”

“I don’t think it changed form before it escaped.” Lex sat in the room’s only chair.

“Well, that’s just great.”

“I tried to call you last night, but I kept getting a message that said you were out of the service area.”

“I was beneath the city looking for its lair.”

“So what are we going to do?”

Dean frowned. “There is no we here, Luthor.”

“Lex.”

Sighing, Dean shook his head. “Whatever. You’re going to go back to your nice life and let me take care of this thing.”

“Why you?”

“What do you mean, why me? There’s no one else. Besides, this is what I do.”

“But why do you do it?”

“Because not all of us are born with silver spoons in our mouth, some of us had to stand by and watch our mother’s being burned alive on the ceiling of their baby brother’s nursery. This is all some of us know.” Dean closed his eyes, angry at himself for letting Luthor get under his skin. “Look. Do us both a favor and go home. I can’t be watching your back and searching for this thing at the same time. Some of us don’t have superpowers and have to rely on old fashion leg work.” 

It was a cheap blow, but he didn’t much care at the moment. 

“Call me when you’ve found it,” Lex said simply. 

“Will do, boss.”

*-*-*-*-*

Lex stared out the ceiling-to-floor window behind his desk, his fingers steepled in front of his chest. He knew he should be concentrating on the report he needed to finish, so he could go back to Smallville, but he just couldn’t keep his mind on business.

How was it that he was always in the wrong place at the wrong time? What was it about being the Luthor scion that made him such a target? His peers generally dealt with vague worries and fears versus stark realities. Why did he always stick out like a sore thumb? Yes, being bald made him unique, but it really didn’t explain why the percentages were always against him. 

And what was it about big damn heroes who always demanded to face danger alone? He snorted with humor as he thought about what Dean’s reaction would be at being classified a hero. While Clark appeared bright, trite and true; Dean was earthy, cranky and a liar. He shook his head, disgusted with himself. Those generalizations weren’t quite true. Clark, while appearing to be the symbol of all things wholesome, rarely told the truth about things that mattered; while Dean could lie at the drop of a hat, but had no trouble telling the truth about things that mattered when the situation called for it. 

And what did it say about him that he was always drawn to hero-types, yet could never seem to put his feet on their path no matter how desperately he wanted to better himself. But he knew the answer. It was because a hero would never survive his father’s quest for power. In order to survive in his father’s world, one had to be able to live comfortably in the darker shades of grays. And while Lex might long for a life in the light, he had long ago resigned himself to living in the murky mist of his father’s playground. Maybe it was this acceptance that made him feel like a bull’s-eye target. Maybe the universe wanted him to stop being wishy-washy and to choose one over the other once and for all, instead of straddling the fence like a scared child. 

Spinning in his chair, he turned back to the desk. It was time to stop daydreaming about heroes and to focus once again on reality, as boring as it was.

*-*-*-*-*

Lex walked through the parking garage toward his car and debated whether or not he should attempt to drive back to Smallville or not. While his desire to escape his father’s domain almost choked him, he didn’t want to run over any more farm boys due to his exhaustion.

He could always sleep in his—

…and the world went black.

*-*-*-*-*

Someone was moaning, and not in the good sex sort of way; more like they were suffering, whether physically or mentally he couldn’t say. Unfortunately, the moaning sounded a lot like him, and yet, as he rose through the layers of unconsciousness, he knew it wasn’t him.

He blinked his eyes open and immediately took in his surroundings. If the concrete walls and dank smells were any indication, he was underground, which no doubt meant he was a guest of the shifter. 

Once again, the odds had been stacked against him. He wished he could say he was shocked, but he wasn’t, not really. 

“What are you?” his own face screamed at him. Sweat beaded over his brow and ran down his neck, making him look pale and sickly. Lex made a mental note to remember that panic was not a good look on him. 

He made several attempts to move his tongue without success. His lips felt like they were bleeding from dehydration. “What?” he finally managed to ask.

Faux Lex grabbed his shoulders and gave him a hard shake. “What are you?” 

What, not who. Obviously, it knew who he was. 

“I’m…I’m human.”

“No, you’re not. You can’t be.”

Lex blinked unsure how to respond to such an accusation. 

“I can’t shed you.”

Shaking his head, Lex struggled to focus on the shape shifter’s face. 

“I’ve tried, but it feels like I’m being torn apart. No matter what I do, I can’t shed you.”

“Ah.”

“Ah? What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“M..mmmeteor mmmmutant.”

“What?” the shifter asked, sounding like it was just barely holding on to its sanity. 

But before Lex could reply, the shifter closed its eyes, swaying ever so slightly as it did. Seconds later, its eyes snapped open. “That’s fucked up.”

Lex snorted once, but the pain made him want to scream. “Tell me about it.”

*-*-*-*-*

“What am I going to do? I…I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Lex’s head bobbed and he focused on the shifter, who was sitting in front of him, rocking back and forth. “Could I…have some water?”

The familiar face looked up as if seeing him for the first time, then nodded. “Sure. Sorry.”

To his shock, the shifter moved out of his line of sight and came back with a cup of water. It lifted the cup to Lex’s lips and let him take several sips. 

“Thank you,” Lex whispered, when he was sated. 

“No problem. And hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard. I’ve just been a little freaked out lately.”

Lex tried to keep his incredulousness off his face, but knew he had failed when the shifter frowned at him. 

“I’m not a bad guy,” it protested.

“Define bad guy,” Lex countered. 

“I’ve never killed anyone.”

“Good to know.”

“Look, sure I’ve been taking people out for a spin, but I always make sure I do it when I know they’ll have plenty of witnesses around them, people who will testify that they couldn’t possible have robbed anyone. I once downloaded a guy who was an identical twin, but I didn’t do anything because I was worried he and his brother might not be able to prove their innocence.”

“Admirable.”

The shifter sneered at him. “Look, I know others like me, okay? And they’re not nice people. They kill…for fun, then blame it on the people they downloaded. They’re psychopaths.”

“And you’re just a thief.”

“You don’t understand.” The shifter leaned back against the concrete wall in front of Lex. 

The whininess reminded Lex a little bit of Clark and he couldn’t help but think that the shifter had to be fairly young. 

“So what are you going to do now?”

“Do?”

Lex resisted the urge to sigh. “Are you going to kill me?”

“What?” The shifter pushed itself off the wall and began to pace back and forth. “Weren’t you listening? I’m not like that.”

“Okay, but I don’t think the world is big enough for two Lex Luthors?”

“Two? Oh. Yeah. I don’t know.”

An idea popped into Lex’s head. “If you’ll search your memories, you’ll see that I own a lab. I can help you. We can see if we can reverse the effects of the meteor.”

The shifter shook its head emphatically. “No.”

“Why not?”

“My mom always warned me about what would happen if scientists ever got a hold of me.”

“Your mom?” Again, Lex thought of Clark, someone who obviously had powers, but kept them in check. Not necessarily because he wanted to, but because he didn’t want to face his parents if he played with them and got caught. “She died just recently, didn’t she?” he asked as he mind jumped from one thought to another. 

“How in the hell did you know that?” The shifter looked at him incredulously. Again, so not a good look, Lex decided. 

“Because you’re recent actions have been that of a kid who no longer has supervision.”

Mulish was also not a good look, Lex decided, although the shifter didn’t deny his accusation. 

“I understand your fears, but I’m not the government. You wouldn’t be a prisoner, but a guest.”

The shifter looked like it was considering it. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you want to help me?”

“Honestly?”

“No, lie to me.” The shifter sneered at him again. “Of course, honestly.”

“Because your abilities have the potential to leapfrog medicine into a new era.”

“But I don’t have them anymore!” the shifter shouted.

“Just because you haven’t been able to shift in the last twenty-four hours, doesn’t mean you’ll never be able to shift again. Maybe your body just needs time to adjust to the meteor rock.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I’m willing to help you find out if it’s true or not.”

“I…I don’t know.”

Lex dropped his chin to his chest in an effort to hold back the sigh that was welling up from his soul.

Several minutes passed and Lex felt himself start to drift off. “You’re not that different from me,” the shifter said. 

Looking to his right, Lex found the shifter sitting in the corner. 

“You’ve always had to hide who you are too.”

“It’s rude to go through other people’s memories without their permission.”

“It’s not like I can help it, dude.”

“Dude? Okay, as long as you look like me, you’re forbidden to ever say that word again.”

The shifter huffed in amusement. “Whatever. And you’re avoiding the topic.”

“What? You thought being the son of a billionaire would be all Ferraris and champagne?”

Frowning, the shifter closed its eyes, an action that Lex was beginning to realize was part of its download process. 

“But it is,” it protested. 

“On the surface, sure; but as long as you’re in there, look deeper.”

The shifter swayed a bit as it looked at Lex’s downloaded memories. It touched the scar on its lip, then nodded to itself. “My father was a bastard too,” it finally said. 

“Just because we’re from different socio-economic classes…” Lex let the thought drift off, knowing his copy would understand without his actually having to say the words. 

“Still, I wouldn’t mind walking in your shoes for a while,” the shifter said glibly.

*-*-*-*-*

Plastering himself against the dank cement wall, Dean tried to listen to the voices emanating from the room just around the corner. While he could occasionally catch a word or phrase, the rest of the conversation was garbled, sewer acoustics not being that great.

Moving glacially, he peeked around the corner and spotted Lex tied to a fairly rickety-looking office chair. His companion, or at least the one Dean assumed was the shifter, looked exactly like the captive man. While it used its hands to express itself, it didn’t seem overly angry or threatening, which gave Dean a few moments to come up with a plan. 

 

Fingering his silver blade, he briefly closed his eyes and slowly inhaled, filling his lungs with the sewer’s musty air, then released it just as slowly. He hated killing creatures that looked human. A small part of his brain that sounded surprisingly like a ten-year old Sammy, kept asking if he was really and truly sure that the creature wasn’t human. Gritting his teeth, he did his best to ignore the plaintive inner voice. He had a job to do and if he didn’t do it, there was a good chance that Lex might die. 

Flowing around the corner like water, he came up behind the shifter and yanked its head back, exposing its throat. The shifter screamed in terror at the same time Lex yelled. “Dean, no!”

While Dean halted the movement that would have sliced the shifter’s throat, he didn’t lessen the hold on the creature, gritting his teeth as it scrabbled at his gloved hands. “Is it one of your meteorite shifters?”

Lex shook his head. “No, but…don’t!” he yelled again when he saw Dean raise the hand with the knife. 

Dean frowned, wondering if Lex was suffering from some variant of the Stockholm syndrome. 

“I haven’t lost my mind,” Lex said dryly. “Not completely, that is.”

Never releasing his grip on the shifter, Dean marched it toward Lex’s chair. Keeping the pressure on the shifter’s neck, he sliced through the ropes. 

Lex staggered a bit as he stood, looking as if his stagnant muscles were screaming in protest. After a moment, he turned and looked the shifter in the face. “Do you trust me?”

The shifter swallowed once, its eyes wide with fear, and tried to turn his head toward Dean, but Dean forced its face toward Lex. 

“I’m not asking you to trust Dean. Just me.”

“Hey!” Dean protested, not because he was offended, but because he decided to play along until he could figure out Lex’s game was. 

The creature finally nodded once. 

“Let him go, please. Dean? Please.”

Dean considered refusing. This was his hunt and he had just rescued Luthor’s ungrateful ass, but taking in the layout of the room, he also knew there was no way for the creature to escape without having to move past him. He shoved it away from him, causing it to stumble, then positioned himself between the creature and the doorway. 

“I have a theory,” Lex said. Dean noted that Lex was addressing the shifter and not him. “But I need you to trust me.”

The shifter’s gaze flicked between Dean and Lex. Dean crossed his arms, making sure the silver knife was clearly visible, but said nothing. 

The shifter nodded nervously. 

“Silver harms you, correct?”

“Y-y-y-e-e-ss,” the shifter whispered. 

Lex finally looked over at Dean. “He told me earlier that he can’t shed me. I suspect it’s a complication stemming from his absorbing my DNA, which is fused with low levels of whatever was permeating the meteor.”

“So?” Dean didn’t want to be an asshole, but he didn’t particularly want to engage in this conversation either. 

“So I suspect the meteor rock stripped him of his abilities and left him human.”

“What?” The shifter startled. 

“A human who looks exactly like you,” Dean said, pointing out the obvious. 

Lex shrugged.

“And just how are we going to test your hypothesis, professor?”

“He needs to touch your knife.”

“What? No way! No way!” The shifter looked back and forth between them as it frantically looked for a way to escape. 

Dean grinned wolfishly. “Now that’s my type of experiment.”

The shifter tried to dart past Dean, but Dean grabbed it and thrust it against the wall. “Come on, Pinocchio, let’s see if you’re a real boy or not.”

The shifter screamed, trying to get away, but Dean had it effectively pinned to the cement wall.

Dean laid the flat of his blade against the shifter’s hairless arm. While it continued to scream bloody murder, its skin didn’t bubble. 

Dean released the sobbing shifter and shoved it toward the corner before he turned and looked at Lex. “How’d you know?”

“I didn’t. Not for sure.”

“You’re both crazy,” the shifter shouted. Tears ran down its face as it cradled its arm, but the tears slowly dissipated as it ran its other hand over its arm.

“There’s not a scratch on you, you big weenie.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“It didn’t…how…I don’t understand.” While still breathing heavy, the shifter stared at its unmarred skin in wonder. 

Lex leaned against the wall beside it. “You’ve always wanted to be a real boy, as Dean put it, haven’t you?”

The shifter sniffed, but nodded. “Of course, I did. No one wants to be a freak.”

“What would you say about being a different type of freak?”

“I…I don’t understand,” the shifter said nervously. 

“I saw it…in your eyes,” Lex said quietly. 

“Saw what? What are you talking about?”

“When you were downloading my memories, you were thinking that you’d do things differently, that you wouldn’t fall prey to my father’s machinations.”

Shrugging, the shifter turned away from Lex, but that left him facing Dean, so he quickly turned back toward his mirror image. “So what?”

“You seemed awfully sure of yourself.”

The shifter sneered at him. “While I may know everything that you know, you don’t know everything that I know. I could put the old man in his place.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Care to put your money where your mouth is?”

*-*-*-*-*

Dean kept his eyes on the road in front of him, deliberately not looking at the sleeping man beside him. How could anyone give up billions? Okay, Lex’s father was the billionaire; Lex was probably only a millionaire, but still. To walk away from a life where your every need was not only met but exceeded. To be able to sleep in a clean bed every night, to always have food. It boggled the imagination. But to hand it over to a monster…

Dean wondered if Lex’s concussion was worse than he thought. 

Of course, he wasn’t leaving with nothing. He had negotiated twelve hours to pick through the remnants of life. A truer statement would be that he told the shifter to wait twelve hours before he headed for Smallville, all while Dean was using his silver knife to clean his fingernails. The shifter hadn’t argued. 

“Left here.”

Those were the first words Lex had spoken in the three hours it had taken them to get to Smallville. Of course, he’d been sleeping for most of that time. The kidnapping and head injury finally taking their toll. 

Dean felt his jaw drop as they crested a small hill and a stone castle appeared in what looked to be the middle of a cornfield. Oh, there were a few trees and an elaborate looking garden on the side of the house, but it was still a castle. A freaking castle. Of course it was. What else would it be? He shook his head as he slowed to a stop in front of the security gate. 

Lex leaned into Dean’s space at the same time the guard bent down next to the window. 

“Hello, Reggie. Theta alpha one.”

“Good afternoon, sir.” The guard waved them through without any further conversation as the gate slid opened. 

The circular drive looked like something out of nineteen thirties romantic comedy. He held back a snort and pulled the Impala up to the bottom of a marble staircase leading to the front door. 

Dean was surprised when Lex didn’t immediately jump out of the car. Instead, Lex seemed to be looking at his home like he was seeing it for the first time. He was, Dean thought, finally coming to his senses. 

“I could always go back to Metropolis and kill it,” Dean offered. 

Huffing with amusement, Lex shook his head. “It’s human now.”

“Says you.”

Lex smiled gratefully at him. “Come on. Let’s go in.”

The closer he got to the castle, the grander it became. Dean followed Lex through the portal, doubling as a door, and up a couple flights of stairs. 

The man had freaking armor statutes in his hallway like some old monster movie. Paintings the size of dining room tables covered the walls. And Dean wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was halfway expecting a creepy butler to step out from an alcove and ask them to ‘walk this way.’

Lex moved like a man on a mission. He didn’t offer to give Dean a tour of the place nor did he explain how a castle ended up in the boonies of Kansas. Instead, he walked steadily until he reached his bedroom closet. 

Dean let out a low whistle when Lex opened the doors. “What are you? Some sort of girl?”

“Shut up,” Lex laughed. “I just appreciate clothes.”

“Dude, you’ve gone from appreciation to fetish.”

Lex playfully pushed him into the closet. “Go look at the black suits.”

“Black suits? What? Why?”

“Because I want to see if any of them fit you.”

“Fit me. Why in the hell would I want to try on your clothes?”

Lex moved to a dresser at the back of the closet. “If you’re going to continue to impersonate an FBI agent, you really should have better threads.”

Dean looked at him, stunned. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Besides, just because I’m giving up my life doesn’t mean I’m not going to stick it to the shifter every chance I get for the next eight hours. What’s he going to do? Report me?”

Throwing his head back, Dean laughed, then moved toward the suits, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

*-*-*-*-*

At the end of an hour, Lex had consolidated his bedroom into two trunks and a stuffed garment bag. But instead of being sad, he was beginning to feel free. A giddiness was starting to grow within him, but he quashed it ruthlessly. He wasn’t free yet. He just needed to concentrate on the task at hand for a little longer. “I need to get some things out of my office. Why don’t you stay here and watch some television.”

Dean looked around the room then back at Lex like Lex had lost his mind. 

Lex smirked as he grabbed the universal control off his bedside table and tossed it to Dean. “Push the big button at the top.”

Frowning, Dean obeyed, then collapsed onto the end of Lex’s bed as a one hundred inch screen descended from the ceiling. 

“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Dean murmured in awe. 

“Nope. You’re just killing time in Smallville.”

*-*-*-*-*

It took Lex nearly two hours on the phone to create new bank accounts and protocols in order to cover his trail in such a way as to keep the shifter from finding the funds. He had always kept an emergency fund because he had always dreamed of escaping Lionel. He just never truly believed that his dreams could become a reality. But careful investments had made his modest nest egg grow into something that would allow him to live the rest of his life as a very wealthy man.

While he was pretty sure the shifter wouldn’t be happy with his withdrawal, he also knew the funds were just a drop in the bucket compared to the combined wealth of LuthorCorp and LexCorp. 

With that task complete, he looked up from his computer and took in his study. 

How did one consolidate a lifetime of excess down to a couple of boxes? Lex truly expected the process to be harder than it was. But then again, he had no real personal attachment to most of the accoutrements that had surrounded him. They were simply things that Lionel’s interior decorator had liked. 

The books were going to be the hardest things to leave behind as many of them had been his companions while growing up. However, he knew that it wasn’t a physical volume that touched him, but the words themselves. The story would remain the same whether it was housed in a one-of-a-kind bound volume or an electronic reader. 

Lex carefully gathered his laptop, his thumb drive backups and all their components, making sure to leave nothing behind. While the shifter might have his memories of the plans he had made in various areas of business and his personal life, he was going to have to work from memory alone because Lex would burn Smallville to the ground before he gave up his computer. 

And not only because it was his last link to Clark. He shut his eyes and breathed out slowly. Of all the things he had to give up, Clark was going to be the hardest. The teenager had been his first true friend. Yet despite their short friendship, Clark had lied to him, over and over again. 

Lex knew he had an obsessive personality, knew that if he stayed that he would try to learn Clark’s secret, whether Clark wanted to share it or not. No, letting Clark go was best for everyone in the end. 

He just hoped the shifter would be so focused on the fact that it was no longer living in the labyrinth beneath Metropolis but in the lap of luxury that it wouldn’t look twice at Clark. 

He wondered if the shifter would drive out to Smallville or if it would spend the next several weeks enjoying everything that Metropolis had to offer the supposed scion of Lionel Luthor. Of course, Lionel would go ape if the shifter fell back into Lex’s old partying ways. 

A part of him almost wished he could witness his father’s reaction from afar. Lionel would eventually make a dramatic entrance and stride into the shifter’s path with his usual pronouncements of being disappointed; which should be enough to remind the shifter that it thought it could beat Lionel at his own game. 

And maybe that would give Clark a little more time to grow into whatever powers he was hiding. Hopefully, by the time the shifter turned his attention on Clark, Clark would be ready. 

He moved slowly around the office, making sure he had gathered all the items that meant something to him: the watch his mother had commissioned for him, the cd of mixed music Clark had made him for his birthday, the lead soldiers he had managed to successfully hide from Lionel all these years. 

He was tempted to take the Spyder, for he truly loved the car, but decided against it, as it would make tracking him ridiculously easy. 

While he didn’t expect the shifter to try and track him down for a while, he suspected it would happen sooner rather than later. But by the time the thought occurred to the shifter, he hoped to be truly off the grid. 

Lex made one more lap around the library/office before he gathered his things and headed back to his bedroom.

*-*-*-*-*

Lex found Dean sound asleep at the top of his bed. Dean’s legs were straight out in front of him, but the top half of his body was tilting at an odd angle, apparently having fallen asleep while watching television.

Hearing the sounds of nature, he turned and looked at the screen. Dean had found the Forest Channel. Twenty-four hours of nothing but the camera focusing on lush green forests and peaceful rivers; guaranteed to put even the most hardcore insomniac to sleep within minutes. 

Lex knew better than to touch the hunter in his sleep, so he sat on the edge of the mattress. Dean’s eyes snapped open before he was completely seated. 

“One thousand channels and you’re already bored?”

But instead of laughing as expected, Dean remained silent and studied his face as if he could discern his answers without actually having to speak. When he finally did, he simply said one word. “Why?”

Lex’s first impulse was to give him a flip answer, but he knew he owed Dean too much to be so callous. He wondered if it was even possible to lie about something so life-changing, but even if he could, he knew he wouldn’t. Just this once, he’d speak the words aloud. 

“I grew up in a world I was helpless to escape. After my mother died, there was no one to take my side or listen to my concerns. My father controlled every aspect of my life. To the point that I honestly don’t have any idea who I am. Are my interests truly my own or just props my father arranged for me to have so that I could consider myself well-rounded. My father always gave me the illusion of freedom, but every once in a while he’d take great joy in showing me just how captive I was to his whims, how I was only a slave to his desires. It didn’t matter what I wanted, he was always determined to bend me to his will. I have to admit, I’m more than a little scared. After all, who am I really? Will I like me? Now that I’m free, who will I become?”

When he looked up, he was shocked by the stricken look on Dean’s face. Rarely had he ever seen anyone so truly devastated and he was surprised by how much the other man’s pain touched him. 

Dean’s lower lip wobbled and he could see the hunter trying to clench his jaw, trying to shore up his defenses.

A small portion of his brain acknowledged that the reaction wasn’t for him, that he had somehow reveal a painful truth to Dean, but he also found that he didn’t much care. 

Reaching out, he cupped Dean’s cheek. Dean closed his eyes and leaned into his palm. 

They stayed that way for several minutes as Dean slowly found his way back behind his emotional shields. 

When Dean opened his eyes, he gave Lex a small appreciative smile, then, almost absurdly, Dean’s gaze shot to the top of Lex’s head. “I could have sworn you said that exposure to the meteorite made you bald.”

Lex frowned, wondering if he had misjudged Dean. “It did.”

Dean ran his fingers over Lex’s scalp and Lex was shocked to discover the feel of peach fuzz. 

“It’s okay to admit you shave it. I mean, it does give you a distinctive look. Although, you might seriously consider letting it grow out if you want to fly under the radar.”

Leaping off the bed, Lex ran into the bathroom and skidded in front of mirrors that made up an entire wall. Peering into the mirror, he could see that there was a fine layer of reddish brown hair covering his head. 

He ran his hands over his scalp, feeling the tiny hairs tickling his palm. Throwing his head back, he barked with laughter, losing himself in the joy that bubbled up from his soul. A thought occurred to him and he held his arm up to the light and noticed tiny hairs sprouting from his forearms, causing him to laugh again. 

Turning, he found a curious Dean leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. 

“I…I have hair. I…I…don’t understand. I...wait! Could the shifter have truly absorbed all the meteorite rock from my body?” He started panting hard. “Maybe…maybe I won’t go mad after all.” He shook his head in awe. “Dean, I have hair.”

“Come with me,” Dean said in a voice, barely above a whisper. 

“What?”

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise, like he couldn’t believe the words had actually fallen from his mouth. He straightened quickly. But before he could run, Lex closed the distance between them and cupped both of Dean’s cheeks in the palm of his hands. 

“Yes,” he said quietly. 

Dean shook his head and tried to take a step back, but Lex moved with him.

“You’re thinking that maybe I should settle down somewhere and start my own business or go back to school, but don’t you see, I can’t. I can’t go out and make a name for myself. Even with hair, I’m probably too recognizable in that sort of situation. I can’t go back to school for the same reason. That and I don’t have an identity of my own just yet. What I need is a purpose.”

“And you think hunting monsters and saving people might be that purpose?”

“Yeah, I think it just might be.’

Dean looked unconvinced. 

“I’ve been on the job less than a day and I’ve already substantially improved your wardrobe.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but there was something in his gaze that told Lex that he was weakening. Praying he hadn’t read the situation wrong, he moved forward slowly and brushed his lips over Dean’s. Dean made a small needy sound in the back of his throat, then surged forward and shoved Lex against the mirrored wall, covering Lex’s body with his own. He deepened the kiss and Lex felt as if he was being devoured alive. 

After a moment, Dean pulled back and studied his face. “All right. But I’m the boss.”

Lex grinned, then began peppering Dean’s face with small kisses. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

*-*-*-*-*

**ONE YEAR LATER** :

“Shit.”

Tearing his gaze from the clippings pinned to the motel walls, Lex turned and looked at his partner. “What?”

“It’s dad’s journal.”

Lex may have only been a hunter for a year, but he knew that was bad omen. “Why would he leave it behind?”

“That’s just it. He wouldn’t.”

“According to the clippings, he was hunting a woman in white. It looks like he even had it narrowed down to one Constance Welch. But he’s got salt and cats-eyed shells spread all around his bed. That’s overkill for a ghost tied to a highway.” Lex shook his head in frustration. “Nothing about this room makes.”

He closed the distance between him and Dean. 

“He would never leave this behind.”

“He did say that something big was happening. Do you think he finally got a lead on the demon?”

“I don’t know.” Dean dropped onto the edge of his father’s bed. “Something seems to have spooked him.”

“He said you all were in danger. Do you think we should get Sam?”

Dean shook his head. “No. Sam’s off the grid. There’s no reason to drag him back into the life.”

“But if it’s the demon...”

“No, Alec. Even if it is the demon, it’s already taken too much away from Sam.”

Lex didn’t point out that it had taken just as much away from Dean. Instead, he simply sat on the bed beside his partner, knowing that Dean was too raw for any sort of comfort. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Dean turned slightly and looked him in the face. “What if your father was dying of cancer? Would you want to be dragged back to Metropolis or forced to run the crap factory again? Would you even want to play chess with your father again? Is there any scenario you can create in that brilliant head of yours that would justify going back?

Lex sighed and shook his head. “No. Especially when Pinocchio is doing such a bang up job.”

Dean snorted without humor. “Who would have thunk that our little shifter would fare so well?” He flipped through his father’s journal for a moment, purposefully not looking at Lex. “What if your father’s discovered that Pinocchio is a fake?”

“He won’t, and even if he did, I’m not leaving you, Dean. You know that, so quit testing me.” Lex leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead. 

“Whoa. Look what we have here.”

Lex looked down at the numbers scribbled across one of the blank pages at the back of the journal. “Coordinates?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“What do you think it means?”

“No idea, but I say we go find out.”

“What about Constance?”

“Call Bobby. Have him send a two man team. I say we hit the road.”

“After we clean up a bit.”

“We’re really going to have to do something about your OCD.” Dean laughed as he stood.

Shoving him playfully, Lex got up and started taking the newspaper clippings off the wall. “I’m not being OCD, but you’ve always been big on making sure people don’t remember us. I’m thinking a wall about ghosts might ping some radars.”

Dean came up behind him and gripped a handful of his hair, pulling him back slightly and kissing his neck. “Do you think we have some time to ping a different type of radar?”

Lex closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensation, shivering when Dean gave his hair another tug. “Probably not.”

“Slave driver.” Dean gave him another peck, then started helping him take down the clippings. 

Lex took a moment to watch him, reveling in the feeling of contentment. Danger lurked on the horizon, the future was uncertain, but as long as he had Dean by his side, he knew they could overcome any obstacle. Friend. Lover. Wanderer. Hunter. Who would have thought that an encounter with a monster would finally help him find his true identity?


End file.
